Corvus Corax
by thelinksthatconnectus
Summary: Upon gaining the affections of a prince, Diaval courts Phillip as any proper raven would.


Mortals were odd creatures; sometimes Diaval wondered how he had once been one. Then again, he had been a different sort of mortal, and he liked to think of himself as a rather good one.

Aurora had made her feelings of friendship towards Prince Phillip rather clearly. She had smiled at him as she would any other, would invite him to the Moors, and talk with him regularly. Still, she did not look at him as she did Maleficent, nor did she stay too close with him. The fairy was her constant companion.

It was no wonder that neither brought each other food or performed tricks. Whatever they felt was certainly not what would build a nest.

Prince Phillip had taken this casually. If he loved anything, then surely it was his sword. Though he would never harm any creature in the Moors, he still loved to pull it out during certain times. It was not iron, but something that looked similar.

"My father is cheap." Phillip had said. He held the sword high, almost as if he wanted to make a scratch to the sky, letting sunshine gleam off of it. "Still, it works well enough." He had smiled over at Diaval and he had felt his (human? fairy?) heart race. "Want to try it?"

Diaval's throat had been dry, so he merely nodded.

Phillip had walked forward, his sword at his side. He had guided Diaval's hands over to the hilt, allowing him to wrap his hands around it. Phillip's own hands remained beside him, gently brushing over his own.

His heart only beat faster.

Diaval took a few practice swings and then admitted defeat, giving it back to him. His weapons were his claws and beak; besides, with Maleficent around there was no need for him to carry around mortal weapons.

"Keep practicing," Phillip said. "If you do then surely you will get better." He grinned once more, sunlight reflecting off of his nut brown hair.

Diaval had thought that was the end of it.

Phillip had started to teach him all of the human moves. Aurora had learned some sword fighting of her own, though she did not carry around a sword and shield as Phillip did. Why would she? She had the most powerful fairy in the world, who would do anything or her protection, at her beck and call.

With every move, thrust, and strike, he did get better. It had started out rather weak, Diaval looking more like a child carrying a stick, but he was doing rather well.

Not, however, as good as Phillip.

* * *

"Did you impress him today?" Maleficent asked. There was a gleam in her eyes, and an all too familiar smirk.

"I suppose I did." Diaval raised an eyebrow. "I apologize if I sound rude, but does that bother you, Mistress? Am I doing something wrong?"

Though he knew of Aurora's feelings for Phillip, he had trouble telling what Maleficent thought. Some days he had feared his mistress turning the boy into a toad, and other times she had smiled down at him.

She shook her head. "I was only trying to make a comment upon him." She turned away, her wings blocking her face. Her voice had been blank. "And no, Diaval, you are just fine."

It took him a very long time to finally realize that he was being courted. Perhaps it was because, despite his appearance, he was still a raven. Every night he dreamed of claws and wings, of flying far above everyone and anything. He could go between the world of mortals and fairies with ease, and the only thing that truly gave him fear was dogs.

If he only asked his mistress, then with a snap of her fingers he would be himself again.

Ravens, after all, were not courted with sword tricks. Still, Phillip had to have been doing the best that he could; the prince had no wings.

Diaval responded in the best way that he knew how.

"Diaval," Phillip asked, looking down to the food in Diaval's hands. "What is that?" He held a finger up to his nose.

Diaval frowned. Oh, why didn't he search for something fresher? A prince like him did not expect nor deserve something as rotten as a half decomposed rabbit. He should have found one fresh, either just killed or still alive. Surely Diaval would have to fight, but he had faced far worse than even wolves while working for his mistress.

"Food," he finally said.

Suddenly, Phillip brightened. "So you did use the sword I left yesterday!"

For a moment, Diaval's mind was blank. All he could do was look down at the dead rabbit, its glassy eyes reflecting back at him.

Oh, he thought. That sword that Phillip gave me.

"Since you've learned so much, Diaval."

"You've already killed something!" Phillip took it from his hands. "You must have killed it yesterday, then. I'm surprised."

"Why?"

"I've never heard of anyone who can kill a rabbit with a sword. They run too fast for most to catch, save a trapper or an archer." He grinned. "You really are good."

"Thank you."

* * *

Phillip's fire was orange and bright, far different from the cold green fire his mistress had. He formed his with sticks, and looked over it with care.

Diaval had seen fire like this before from a distance, but never really got close to it. Mortals who messed with that often ended up getting hurt; then again, Phillip took more care with this than most mortals.

"It smells good, doesn't it?"

Diaval nodded. "I've never had cooked rabbit before."

"Then you are missing out." Phillip wrapped his cape around him tighter. He was sitting closer to the fire than Diaval. "If only Aurora and Maleficent were not out; I am sure that they would have liked some too."

"Are you cold?"

"I'm fine."

Diaval got closer and wrapped an arm around him. Phillip relaxed. "Then why were you shivering?"

"I'm fine now." Phillip grinned. He looked back to the fire and the rabbit roasting over it. "As I was saying, cooked rabbit meat is wonderful. Most people dislike it, cooked or not, but I love it. They claim that the meat is too chewy." His eyes drifted from Diaval back to the fire. The moon was not out and few stars looked down on the sky that night. Were it not for the fire, then the place would mostly be dark.

"I'm sure that I'll love it." He smiled. "Still, I do believe that I prefer rats."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he froze. Why did he say that? What mortal ate rats?

"You can catch those too?" Phillip grinned. "You're faster than you look, Diaval, even looking like this."

"Oh, yes."

"I ate a rat once."

"You did?" Diaval's eyes widened.

Phillip chuckled. "Aye, I did. It was a dare from my cousin, visiting from another kingdom. He had found a small dead one and held it out to me."

"Did you like it?"

Phillip shook his head. "I spit it out immediately. My teeth could not even go through its skin!"

"It seems that you got a particularly bad rat."

Suddenly, Phillip pulled away from him and looked back to the fire.

"Is it done?"

Phillip nodded, and began to take it off. "I've cooked a lot of these before. My father is always sending me off to some other place or another, and I can't carry a lot of food on my back. I usually eat birds." He bit his lip. "Never ravens, if you're worried."

"Don't worry," Diaval responded. "I eat birds too."

Once they had each gotten their share of cooked rabbit meat once it had cooled, they began to eat. There were no plates, and Phillip seemed to not mind having to eat with his fingers.

Phillip leaned in closer to Diaval. "Having a good night?" A small bit of juice ran down his chin.

Diaval nodded. "This is wonderful."

"I told you it would be."

* * *

When he awoke, the sun was just beginning to rise and his mistress was high in the sky.

It took him a moment to remember what was going on, but when he did he relaxed. He was right where he had been the night before, in a small clearing in the Moors land, Phillip right beside him. His head was on Diaval's chest, and beyond him was burnt twigs; the fire had long since died.

In his mouth, he could still faintly taste cooked rabbit.

Phillip looked peaceful, perfectly relaxed with a smile on his face. There would be no way to get up without waking him as well.

Diaval closed his eyes once more and let his mind take flight.

* * *

The Moors were not an ideal place to start a nest.

It was a good thing, then, that Diaval did not want one. He had his prince, and the support of Aurora and his mistress, not to mention wings of his own. What more could he ever possibly want?


End file.
